baby factory
2.0 and I have been living in our house for over five years now. We bought it after we’d been together for about six months, which proves that drooling on your own pants on your second date is the best way to snag the man of your dreams. We’d only been in the house for a few weeks when 2.0 shared the following information.
2.0: Bad news… (closing the front door behind him)
movita: About?
2.0: The house.
movita: Our house?
2.0: Yes. But I’m not sure if I should tell you. You might want to move.
movita: I hate packing.
2.0: I know, but I really don’t think you’re going to like this.
I imagine our water system is contaminated with arsenic or the neighbourhood has been taken over by vicious child gangs.
movita: Just tell me. I’m ready.
2.0: We moved into a baby factory.
movita: What?
2.0: Ed told me.
movita: Told you what?
2.0: That we moved into a baby factory.
movita:
2.0: The whole neighbourhood is watching you. Ed and Ida talk about it all the time. They figure we’ll be having a baby in no time. This place? This place is a baby factory.
movita: Did you tell Ed that my uterus has dried up?
2.0: Nope!
Ed was a retired fellow living next door with his wife, Ida. He liked to tell 2.0 about the history of our house and new neighbourhood. Ed insisted that our house had some sort of magical baby producing powers, and provided the following evidence/timeline as he chatted with 2.0 over the fence:
1. The first owner of our house (over 60 years ago) was a single woman. She “took up” with “some man,” had multiple children, and was forced to move to a larger home in order to accommodate her litter.
2. A famous sports dude moves in with his wife, adds an en suite bathroom, spawns three children and has to move into a bigger house. (Because of the reproducing.)
3. Next, a child-free couple moves into the house. They do some gardening and pop out a couple of kids. They have to move to a larger home because children aren’t supposed to sleep stacked on top of one another.
4. 2.0 and I move in. One of us has a uterus.
The next day, 2.0 is removing the door that leads down to our basement, leaving an opening that drops 10 feet to a concrete floor. We figure it will discourage people from bringing their children to visit us.
2.0: (sighing) We’ll probably have to put this door back on when we have the baby.
movita: I’ll start packing.
.
Ooh, a house with magic powers? Are you sure your uterus is dried up??? 😉
Like the Sahara Desert.
Dear Movita: I love you. There are many reasons, but this comment reply is the main one right now.
Kind of shame because I can just imagine the hilarity that would ensue when Movitita is born.
Stop imagining that immediately. IMMEDIATELY.
I agree with Stacy.
Cut it out, Natalie.
Let’s knit booties! I don’t even know how to knit but I will learn. For Movitita. Or Movitito. Perhaps we should do them in green.
Can’t. Stop. Just can’t. (Also, really not trying very hard since I am enjoying the daydream so much.)
It’s going to be a miracle???
The only miracles that occur in this house involve steak.
Do cats count as babies? Or cakes? Cakes SHOULD count as babies! Except for when you eat them, then it would be weird.
this sounds like a coy bun-in-the-oven announcement! (and i can endorse the fact that even old, dried-up ovens can still make lovely, healthy buns 🙂 ).
Cut that out. We have child-proofed our home. It is now perilous to children. JUST THE WAY WE LIKE IT.
I imagine your house being littered with steak knives and frayed electrical cords!
Also, shards of glass.
Nice trick. Works for babies and missionaries!
My friend who has 5 kids stacks them. She puts 3 in one room and two in the other. The kids share a bathroom, where their toothbrushes are stacked one on top of the other. The kids live on the second floor and my friend and her husband live on the first floor because it’s better to stack your kids on top of you than to have them running around your bedroom when you’re trying to sleep. Needless to say, they do not have any pets, even stackable ones. It would be too much.
You know who my favorite people are? The ones who “take up” with “some man.” I’m *always* free to get a glass of white wine with one of those ladies.
Lego children.
That is all.
I sincerely hope that you and Scott produce a stackable family.
My house is an anti-baby factory and I do everything in my power to discourage people from bringing their children to my house.
Goofy neighbors are the best (sort of) 🙂
I would break that house with my unrepentant child hating ways. My uterus works (I think) but I dabble in the magic arts to prevent it from EVER incubating a tiny human. I invite you to kick me through your basement door if that ever happens to me.
Didn’t I tell you? Before you and 2.0 bought the house, we viewed and I cursed it against baby making….the factory was closed up before the papers were EVER signed
This is a relief. Also a relief? The fact that women my age have less than 5% chance of reproducing. I COULDN’T BE HAPPIER!
So… now that you’ve jinxed yourself i’m awaiting the baby announcement 🙂
Hahaha. Wow. I don’t know if I could live with the sheer paranoia that would ensue if a neighbor had told me that story. At least you have the comfort of having a Sahara desert for a uterus.
It really is comforting. Also, my advanced age really helps!
Definitely sounds cryptic, especially since there has been a large baby boom among the bloggers I read. Hmmm….
I’m gonna start saving up for a baby shower present.
My money’s on a Movito.
How about you just gimme a present for being alive? I mean, 2.0 and I aren’t married, so we’ve missed out on a lot. No engagement, wedding, shower or baby birthing gifts. Not one. It’s not fair. Just because we aren’t following the North American Norm doesn’t mean we don’t need NICE TOWELS.
favorite part: “did you tell Ed my uterus has dried up? NOPE!” – said with SUCH EXUBERANCE: i felt like i was there.
Honestly, i really, really (i know i know you better than that but REALLY, somehow) thought this was a story about you accidentally becoming pregnant. I think i actually held my breath the entire post, just because…well: i know you, so obviously i thought i’d need to come visit.
Know what makes visiting my house so awesome? NO KIDS. Adults roam the place freely, lounging with coffee, swearing profusely and doing… well, doing whatever we want whenever we want. It is marvellous and magical. All parents should come here for vacation. You’ll see…
Stop drinking red wine. It’s the secret ingredient to spontaneous spawning. Seriously. Maybe sage the place too, just to be sure.
Just snorted stuff out of my nose. YOU WIN THE INTERWEB TODAY.
Movita, you
would make a marvelous Momita! This I am sure….are you sure my dear that the mystical powers in the house don’t have a delayed reaction..or shall be say, dormant period? Do we have to do some magical dance to bring those powers to life? I would look forward to those post with almost as much exuberance!
Oh, Andrew. That is so sweet. NOW CUT IT OUT. I’m middle aged, child-free, and deliriously happy. Let’s not wreck that, k?
Never say never…
Babies are the worst. I’m coming over.
But when you have babies you can twist their little minds so when they grow up they wear t-shirts that say things like “bitch, whore, much”, and they can go get you wine and stuff. Plus they do dishes. If you raise ’em really well they also grow up to throw knives so leaving them around the house is fun instead of a burden. I mean it’s not a Saturday in boonieland if a knife doesn’t go sailing past your head while you drink wine and have a swear-off. Living in the burbs with hooligans is fun, but only when you’re twisted and slightly demented. That being said I’m done with this kid stuff so I’m not visiting, and if I do we’re camping in your yard because I’m not risking going through this shit again at my age.
Snorted stuff out of my nose reading both the post and the comments. Awesome.
Too funny! Love this post ….. you made my morning LOL!
Haha, wow this really made me laugh! I have an elderly neighbor who asked me last week when I’m getting married because she doesn’t want to die before it happens. Aw, neighbors.
I’m on my way to help you pack. No one should ever have to live with that kind of pressure looming over them.